


Snow knows (it's porn)

by coalitiongirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, post 4a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/pseuds/coalitiongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Snow is sure that Emma and Regina <i>must</i> be dating. In true love. The whole shebang. </p><p>And she's never wrong, right?</p><p>(...right?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow knows (it's porn)

In the past, Emma has accused Snow of being out of touch with her romantic inclinations. She’d said it when Snow had been convinced that she and Neal had been true love (which was _true,_ sort of, even if Emma had also wanted him dead, okay?) and she’d said it when she’d gone out with Hook one night and Snow had thought Emma had been about to admit her love for him.

 

Which, to be fair, _had_ ended with Emma breaking up with Hook, so maybe Emma had had a point. But Snow had thought for a while that Emma had just been afraid of her feelings. Because what kind of excuse is, “Regina needs me for Operation Mongoose and Killian was just…really clingy about the whole thing”? 

 

But now she knows. Oh, yes, she knows.

 

“I’m heading out now,” Emma announces, wandering into the kitchen sometime before seven AM. 

 

Snow is feeding Neal on the couch and reading a novel ( _Busty Babs’s Sapphic Awakening,_ which has been less informative about sapphic awakenings and more informative about what happens immediately after them– she isn’t quite comfortable reading this around Neal, but she’s trying to be supportive so she soldiers on and keeps a list of questions for Ruby for later) and she blinks, checking the clock on the wall again. “Now?” 

 

“If I run, I can catch Regina before she heads to work. I thought up some people who might own that mansion.” Emma holds up a notebook and peers into the mirror. Blinks twice. Adjusts eyelashes that have grown a suspicious amount since dinnertime last night. (Is _Emma Swan_ wearing _designer jeans_?) 

 

“I’m pretty sure that Regina doesn’t leave to work until after Henry gets to school,” Snow comments, scribbling down another note. (Is punching each other foreplay? Because that would explain– _Oh. Oh, they did not mean punching._ Not in the face, anyway.)

 

Neal’s finished, and Emma makes a quick detour to the couch to blow a raspberry onto his stomach. “I know, but if I make it there early, I get breakfast. Regina won’t box it up for me anymore because I forgot it at Granny’s once. One time! And I’m blacklisted for life.” She pouts at Neal and then blinks down at Snow’s list. “Mom? Why are you asking Ruby how hygienic fisting is?” She lowers her voice and glances at the open bedroom across the room. “Are you and Dad…having issues?” 

 

Amid vigorous denials, Emma sails out the door, promptly forgetting her notebook in the process. Snow hunches back over her book, even more determined than before.

 

* * *

 

She’s sorting through paperwork with Regina the next day, which generally means being berated by Regina for every single thing she’d written in her whole two-week stint as mayor. “I had just given birth! Why doesn’t this town believe in maternity leave?”

 

“And that’s an excuse for approving this proposal?” She shoves a paper at Snow. “No wonder your kingdom lasted under a year.” 

 

“You cursed us into another realm!” 

 

“I saved your people from atrocious bureaucracy!”

 

“You’re right.” Snow has found of late that agreeing with Regina has the curious effect of silencing her completely and irritating her in the process, and Regina sits opposite her now, mouth half open and eyes glittering with annoyance. Snow takes the opportunity to say, “Now, about you and my daughter…” 

 

Regina clears her throat. “That’s none of your business. What we’re doing is between us and Henry.” 

 

“Of course!” Snow hastens to agree. She isn’t going to be that kind of nagging mother she’d always heard of (David’s mother had died just in time for their wedding, which had been heartbreaking, of course, but at least a tiny bit of a relief. Ruth had seemed like a bit of a Type A personality, if the way she’d made decisions for them for the sake of Snow’s future children had been any indication). And if that means suppressing every bone in her body that craves- nay, _demands_ to hear details, then that’s what it’ll be.

 

“And the author,” Regina finishes, eyes narrowing at an approval Snow had signed for the sheriff department budget. “This is abuse of power, Snow! I would never–“ She hesitates, thankfully figuring out on her own how feeble _that_ argument is from her, and Snow sifts through her last words with interest.

 

“The author! That’s what this is about. Writing you a happy ending.” Of course. Regina had had such terrible luck with her last love interest, and their mysterious Operation Mongoose had become a group project almost immediately after he’d gone. A group project specifically including _Emma._

 

Regina looks at her as though she’s very, very slow. “Yes,” she says, enunciating the word clearly. “That is in fact what I’ve told you numerous times.” 

 

Snow falls silent as Regina glares back at the papers with new focus, but it’s only after a few minutes that she feels obligated to follow up on her research and ask, “So, you’ve been using dental dams, right?” 

 

Regina’s hand slams down on the table. “Snow, I swear to god, I am never reenacting that damned sixteenth birthday conversation ever–“ 

 

Her phone rings and she falls silent at the ringtone, shuffling for her phone with a combination of frustration and anticipation that has Snow raising an eyebrow and watching her face. “Hello?” 

 

She’s already rolling her eyes at whatever the person on the other end is saying, but the fierce glare has all but faded and been replaced with lips that can’t quite tamp down a smile, eyes that are soft and sparkle like Regina’s still the girl who’d saved her from a spooked horse. And Snow isn’t surprised at all when Regina laughs for a second, unrestrained as she’s ever been, and says, “You _idiot_ ,” because of course she’s talking to Emma. 

 

She hangs up and her face seems to struggle to remember how to be grouchy again before she sighs and gives up magnanimously. “I have to run…finish up some other work. We’ll get back to this tomorrow.” 

 

“Other work,” Snow repeats skeptically. It’s Emma’s lunch break now, she knows, though the sheer impossibility of Regina passing up paperwork to spend time with Emma is… She shakes her head, disbelieving. True love. It has to be true love. There’s no other explanation.

 

Regina’s already gone when she starts, “If you two want some company–“ and Snow pinches the bridge of her nose and wonders when they’re going to tell her.

 

* * *

 

She hadn’t realized it right away, actually. It hadn’t been until she’d been out with Neal and Ruby one afternoon, walking down Main Street and enjoying the peace and quiet of a world without villains (two weeks and counting, an all-time high for Storybrooke!), that she’d seen it.

 

Emma and Regina walking side-by-side down the street, bundled up and breathless in the wind as Emma says something and Regina retorts and they pause to face each other for a moment in animated conversation, Regina’s gloved hands sliding over Emma’s bare ones. “They’re such good friends now,” Snow had mused. For better or for worse, their family had somehow tightened around her, new connections forged and strong at last. 

 

Ruby snorts. “Right. _Friends_.” Granny calls for her from the diner and she sidles back there, leaving Snow alone with a bolt of understanding. 

 

So maybe it had been Ruby who’d figured it out, not Snow.

 

But she’d scanned their faces, seen how they couldn’t quite keep their eyes off of each other and registered it. Seen how Emma’s fingers are nervous in Regina’s and her cheeks glow and has Emma ever been so anxious to be _friends_ with anyone before Regina had pushed her away last month? Seen how Regina’s eyes are warm and tentatively bright and her hands cover Emma’s securely, like she’s someone Regina would protect with all she is.

 

Two weeks since Regina had left one true love. One week since an uncomfortable breakup on Emma’s end that still has Hook lingering in the corners of her life, waiting to be let back in. Snow can follow the bread crumbs, sift through one after another after another until she has a handful of clues that mean only one thing.

 

_Snow’s_ thing. _True love_. She wishes Emma would talk to her about it, wishes Regina would start confiding in her again, but in the absence of their admissions, Snow pieces it all together on her own.

 

She doesn’t dare tell even David. It’s too new, too precious for them to be spooked now. So she watches and waits.

 

* * *

 

She’s doing their laundry in exchange for Emma babysitting Neal while she does (which consists mostly of Emma putting him in the laundry basket while Henry snaps photos of it and sends them to his other mother. _I’m so glad I was the one to raise you,_ comes the message back, stern enough that Emma grins at it instead of brooding), and she’s sifting through Emma’s shirts when she encounters a satin blouse that is undoubtedly due for dry cleaning and _not Emma’s._

 

She glances at it and at Emma, who says, “Oh, yeah. I was trying the fireball thing at Regina’s and I accidentally burned off my shirt.” 

 

Snow chooses not to comment on that. “Right.” She reaches into Emma’s laundry basket and retrieves another shirt, this one blue silk. Dry cleaning. Again. 

 

Emma says, “We wanted to go out to dinner- to scope out some of the wealthier areas in town to find the author, y’know?” Snow does not know. She’d paused at _go out to dinner_ and hasn’t returned yet. “Regina refused to take me out in my clothes, though. Hardass.” 

 

She coughs it under her breath and Henry says, “I’m telling,” and the two of them chase each other through the laundry room until Snow is nearly finished with Emma’s darks and another top and a _dress-_  a tight wraparound that Emma wouldn’t be caught dead in- are earmarked for dry cleaning as well.

 

She holds them up when Emma returns and Emma flushes this time and rolls her eyes. “Those are…mine, actually. Regina’s decided that I’m her new fixer-upper or something.” 

 

“When did you wear this dress?” _Why didn’t I get pictures_ is what she really wants to ask, but she knows better than to push her luck as a proud mother when it comes to Emma. Emma’s little foray into reliving teenager-hood had faded as quickly as she’d discarded her bad boy fling.

 

“Another dinner reconnaissance mission,” Emma says, eminently casual about it, and Henry complains, “Why do I never get to come to the dinner reconnaissance missions?” and there’s Snow’s answer about _that._

 

Reconnaissance dinners at every expensive restaurant in town. Emma in a dress that Regina had picked out. No son to keep it a safe family occasion.

 

Well then.

 

* * *

 

There’s _no_ excuse for the dinner she stumbles into later that week, though, storybook in hand as she follows Henry’s directions to the author’s mansion and ducks inside. 

 

She pulls at the proper light fixture, walks through the door…and she’s met with the sight of Emma and Regina on opposite sides of a small table lit with candles. They’re eating something homemade on fine china- _Regina’s_ china- and they’re talking in hushed voices as she steps into the room.

 

They look up. Snow says dumbly, “Henry wanted me to drop off the book. I didn’t mean to interrupt your…candlelit dinner.”

 

They blink at her in perfect synchrony, and for a moment she’s almost jealous of how easily they’ve grown into each other’s mirrors (which she’s trying hard not to be, because how do you explain to Archie the irrational desire to be loved most by your ex-stepmother and your daughter, who possibly love each other? There’s something in there about being an only child and also having a stepmother who wants to kill you, she’s sure. Archie’s been talking about writing a book).

 

“Oh,” Regina says finally. “This is just…dinner. The electricity’s been cut out.” She offers Snow an accusing glare for that as though she’s still the official mayoral scapegoat. Snow accepts the blame readily.

 

“You know Regina and food. I tried to get her to admit that she prefers pizza and now we do _this_ every night.” Emma sighs, long-suffering. Regina steps on her foot under the table and she stifles a pained cry.

 

“Every night,” Snow repeats, fiddling with the storybook. “You do this every night.”

 

They’re both staring at her now, matching looks of puzzlement on their faces, and Snow says, clearing her throat, “I should just…go.” 

 

“Oh, no! You should stay. It’s lasagna night.” Emma waves her over and that part of her that knows she’s terrible at pretending promptly loses to the part of her that just wants to be part of this new, beautiful thing.

 

The woman who’d spent most of her life trying to kill Snow and Snow’s daughter who’s older than she is. What’s not to love?

 

She sits down at the table and tries to recall the courtship that had come before the…other parts of _Busty Babs’s Sapphic Awakening_. Dinner. What do they talk about at dinner? Plaid? Xena? Rainbows? “What’s your favorite color?” is what emerges eventually.

 

They’re both back to identical looks of bemusement, and Emma says, “Uh, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

 

“Yes?” She pops back into Eagerness Mode, waiting for the revelation that she’s been expecting for weeks now. She’s going to be supportive. She is _not_ going to bring up the Evil Queen angle. This relationship has been good for them, and she trusts Regina with Emma’s heart…probably more than she trusts Emma with Regina’s, actually. Emma does run scared a bit too often. Hook is still brooding at the Rabbit Hole every night, trying to persuade David to arrest him so he can brood at the sheriff’s station during the day.

 

“It’s about getting my own place,” Emma says quickly, and Snow’s brow furrows with disappointment. “You were right, there are no vacancies in Storybrooke. But I’ve been talking to Regina, and she has a spare guest room in her basement.” She leans forward, hands a little too close to the candles, and Regina puts her own hand on hers to guide her away. “It’d be a more stable environment for Henry, Regina’s giving me a friend discount, and I also have my own entrance and space. It’s workable, don’t you think?” 

 

She’s eager and there’s already the flush of excitement in her eyes, the energy that seems to expand within her whenever she spends too much time with Regina (Mary Margaret had once thought that Emma had been doing afternoon runs after work, only to discover that she’d instead managed to schedule spontaneous daily brawls with Madam Mayor instead), and Regina is watching her face as though she’s spellbound by the light on it. Snow wants to snap a picture of them like this, caught up in each other with only a few words, but instead she forces out the words, “Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon to be moving in together?”

 

Regina blinks. Emma frowns. “A bit too soon?” Emma echoes.

 

“Moving in together?” Regina repeats. 

 

They’re united in mutual denial. Apparently today is not the day that Snow is finally privy to the _obvious._ She bites her tongue and waits and Regina finally concedes, “It has only been a month or so since I last wanted to kill you.” 

 

“You were cursed! Wait. We’re talking about when you were cursed, right?” Emma looks suddenly dejected. “Because you said you didn’t want to kill me. Those actual words. I remember them.”

 

“I don’t want to kill you,” Regina says obligingly, rolling her eyes. Under the table, Snow can just see her knee bump against Emma’s and Emma lick her lips nervously. “But we do have a…tumultuous relationship. It may not be the best idea for us to live under the same roof.” 

 

“Are you agreeing with me?” Snow says hopefully.

 

“Don’t push your luck,” Regina says, a non-response that earns Snow baleful glares from both Emma and Regina, blame set at her feet for their broken plans.

 

She really is becoming _that kind of mom._

 

* * *

 

At some point, it becomes so blatant that Snow is frustrated at them both. She isn’t exactly known for her subtlety or secret-keeping skills, and there’s only so much that she can weather before it all comes pouring out of her and she’s outing them to the world (which is a big no-no, according to all the pamphlets she’s picked up from Archie. He’d handed them over somberly and congratulated her on being so openminded about the generational romances in their family. She’d thanked him, though she still doesn’t understand why he’d kept bringing the conversation back to David and Hook’s breakup with Emma). 

 

But then Emma doesn’t come home on one of Henry’s nights over at their place, and Snow can’t keep it in anymore. “What are Regina and Emma doing?” she demands, staring pensively at the next book in the series ( _DP Debby Goes Deep_ , and she’s five pages in and already has some serious questions for Ruby. And Belle, who’s been surprisingly knowledgable about the whole matter. Maybe Ruby’s been rubbing off on her. (Snow frowns at the image that comes to mind and closes the book, a bit faint of heart)). 

 

“They’re getting along.” David is lying on the floor, Neal’s curious little fingers touching his hair. “It’s a good thing, right?” 

 

“Not just _getting along_. Don’t you think there’s something more there?” 

 

It’s Henry who speaks up now, looking up from the textbook he has open on the floor. “Don’t you dare stop them,” he says fiercely, a miniature Regina. “They’re finally friends. Emma’s spending more time on Operation Mongoose than even I have. It’s perfect.” 

 

“I’m not stopping them!” she says hastily. “See? I’m even reading–“ She reconsiders showing Henry this book. “But you don’t think it’s strange that she’s spending the night there?” 

 

David shrugs. “They’re friends. Belle’s practically living with Ruby these days.” 

 

“Yes, but–“ Another bolt of understanding.

 

“Aurora just invited Mulan to live in her dad's house, too,” Henry chimes in.

 

“It’s what female friends in this town do. They have sleepovers. Didn’t you used to have those with Ruby?” Neal’s hand flails out and scrapes against David’s chin. 

 

“We barely kissed!” Snow says defensively. “Twice! In this world, anyway. Very little tongue on my end. It was all just…friendly.” 

 

“See?” David nods with satisfaction, even if Henry is now squinting suspiciously at her. “Friends.”

 

* * *

 

Friends who are practically on each other’s laps when Snow extends an olive branch and invites Regina for dinner one night. Emma and Henry had gone back to New York to pick up the last of their belongings, and now she’s scrolling through her old camera, Regina leaning in beside her to squint at the photos of Henry, and Emma has one arm around Regina and Regina’s head is nestled against Emma’s shoulder- because it’s easier to see this way, Regina had insisted- and Snow wishes that David and Henry would get back from the store already to _see_ this and understand.

 

She clears her throat and they don’t notice, too caught up in their conversation to look up at her. “And he walked around in New York at night? By himself?” 

 

“Please notice that I’m taking the picture, Regina,” Emma reminds her. “And no, he had a curfew.” 

 

“He’s terrible with curfews.”

 

“I know.” Emma squeezes Regina’s shoulder. “But he wasn’t that bad in New York.” 

 

“Really?”

 

Emma flicks to the next picture. “I earned his compliance through excessive video games.” 

 

“You’re the most incompetent babysitter I’ve ever found for him,” Regina huffs, and Emma laughs and moves on and Snow can’t take it anymore, can’t take this _ease_ and true love sitting obnoxiously on her sofa and staring her in the face without confession. 

 

She clears her throat again, this time loud enough that Emma and Regina look up, and she bursts out in righteous demand, “Are we ever going to talk about the elephant in the room?” 

 

Emma’s arm is still around Regina and Regina still looks as though she _belongs_ there but neither one of them looks defensive or taken aback. No, they just look confused, like they have nothing at all to hide, and Snow’s confidence wavers. “You!” she says. “You two. Together.” Their expressions don’t change. “Dating!” she says finally, exasperated. “You’re dating! I’ve been trying to give you time, but…” 

 

“We’re not…” Regina frowns, sitting up to meet Emma’s befuddled eyes. “Dating?” 

 

“Oh, come _on._ Emma, I know that you think I come on too strong, but I know what you’re doing. I see the way you two look at each other.” They stare at each other, a flush rising in Emma’s cheeks and Regina close enough to kiss. Regina sucks in a breath. “Like that! That right there!” Snow points at them. “You’ve been going out to dinner.” 

 

“Reconnaissance,” Regina corrects her. 

 

“Emma bought you flowers last week!” 

 

Emma nods, eyebrows raised. “Because I broke a vase and Regina told me to replace it.” 

 

“You were holding hands on the street?” 

 

“Your daughter forgets her gloves everywhere. I’ve had to buy you six pairs in the past month.” Regina picks up Emma’s hands, covering them in her own, then remembers Snow staring at them. She grits her teeth and drops them. “We’re friends. Barely even that.” 

 

Emma does her best approximation of a kicked puppy. Regina’s own face falls. “You know what I mean,” she murmurs, and now her hand is on Emma’s thigh and they’re _still_ close enough to kiss and their world is narrowing swiftly again, closing Snow out. 

 

Snow barges onward, refusing to let this farce go any longer. This is worse than ever, two women who’ve been so consistently oblivious all the time being paired up to torture her like this. “I can’t _believe_ you two.” 

 

“Mom, enough!” Emma rounds on her. “I’m not dating Regina! For one thing, she’s a woman–“ 

 

“So was Ruby,” Snow mutters. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Nothing.” She’s flushed with embarrassment and frustration because she _knows_ she’s right, she’s never seen anything less platonic than Emma and Regina and it’s only gotten worse since they’d gotten rid of their boyfriends. They can’t be denying it now that it’s being thrust at them.

 

But it’s Regina who leans back now, shifting away from Emma with a scowl on her face. “I never knew you to be so closed-minded, Miss Swan,” she says coolly. 

 

Emma’s brow knits, pouncing on the unspoken thread. “So you _do_ want to date?” 

 

“Hardly.” Regina folds her arms against her, glares at the wall, and Snow has no idea what’s going on anymore. “I’m so far out of your league that you’d have a better chance with Gold. And he’s been gone for a month.” 

 

Emma’s temper flares and Snow stands back, watching them both erupt. “You’re so _what?_ I’m the fucking savior! The mother of your child! You’re not out of–” She shakes her head, lips pressing together thinly as she stands up. “Fine. You go find someone _worthy of you_. I’m just gonna…keep working on your happy ending!” 

 

“Fine!” 

 

“Fine!” Regina rises sharply, taking a step forward as she glares at Emma, and Snow ducks out of their way toward the kitchen island. They move closer, stepping forward as their eyes dart to each other’s lips, and _friends, right?_ Snow thinks smugly, just as Emma turns away and stalks out the door. 

 

“Miss Swan! Swan, you coward!” Regina snaps, storming after her down the stairs, and Snow follows unobtrusively, pausing at the doorway to the complex as Regina burns her way down the walk to Emma. “Where the hell are you going?”

 

Emma spins around. “Away!” She bites her lip, flashing eyes gentling as she tries visibly to calm down. “We have a good thing, right? I don’t want it to…” She’s fidgeting with her fingers again, Regina silent in front of her. “You’re not going to make this weird now, are you?” 

 

“Because your mother is an imbecile?” Regina demands. Snow bites back a protest. She’s pretty sure that she’s the _only_ one in this mess who actually has a grasp of what’s going on, to be honest, and nothing Regina or Emma has done has proven otherwise.

 

“My mother?” Emma echoes. “ _You’re_ the one who raised her-“ She laughs hard. “Oh, god, this is so fucked up–“

 

Regina seizes her by the wrists and kisses her on the walk, hands drifting along to Emma’s waist, and Emma wraps her arms around Regina and pulls her closer, kissing her back with the same ardor. Snow slips back into the building, satisfied.

 

Behind her, she can hear the sound of David’s car parking in front of the building, and then Henry’s voice. “Whoa. Uh…have you guys been reading Gram’s _Busty Babs_ book too?” 

 

Oh, _shit._


End file.
